Happiness and little joys.

That girl. That girl who was so afraid of relationships, commitment, allowing someone to love her unconditionally. She, who feared being in love only because of the power it gave the other person over her. To make her, love her; break her. She, who thought she was happy in her own little bubble. She, who thought tennis and fashion were the only things that mattered. That little girl who never sought comfort in anybody but her own self. She, who counted her blessings. She, who thought the power of silence was much greater than the power of speech. She, who was content, if not anything else. She, who stopped expecting anything from people only because she knew it would lead to disappointment. She, who was beautifully fragile. She, who would crack even with the slightest pressure. She, who was cold and lost. She, who found solace in books, long walks and silence. She, who wasn't affected by parties and all that jazz. She, who thought naps and long hot showers could solve all problems in the world. She, who wanted to go to a fancy University.

She changed. For the better, or worse, she didn't know. What she did know, however, was that she felt different. She looked different, her scent, her hair, her clothes, everything was different. All the times that she thought she would never forget now seemed like another person's memory. She let herself be loved, and cared for. She let herself go. Instead of books and walk, she found peace in his words, his scent. She was changing into a different person, she didn't know if she liked it or not, but she was at peace.

She was happy.